July 2013 | back-issues, poetry
To wind that blows from better days
with the scent of mint and honeysuckle,
I thank you for this breath of fresh air
in weather long past prediction.
To sun that sets into the ocean
whose water does not dowse,
I warm my hands tonight
on the campfire you set today.
To rain that cleans and cools
the wounds and thirsts for more,
from cupped hands I drink
my limit of clear waterfall.
To all elements, all hungers,
may I learn to give what you need
and fair portion of what you want.
To the earth that bears us,
I mourn the scars of our legacy
but thank you for the home we share
atop your weathered body.
by Robert S. King
Robert S. King, a native Georgian, now lives in the mountains near Hayesville, NC. His poems have appeared in hundreds of magazines, including California Quarterly, Chariton Review, Hollins Critic, Kenyon Review, Lullwater Review, Main Street Rag, Midwest Quarterly, Negative Capability, Southern Poetry Review, and Spoon River Poetry Review. He has published three chapbooks (When Stars Fall Down as Snow, Garland Press 1976; Dream of the Electric Eel, Wolfsong Publications 1982; and The Traveller’s Tale, Whistle Press 1998). His full‐length collections are The Hunted River and The Gravedigger’s Roots, both in 2nd editions from FutureCycle Press, 2012; and One Man’s Profit from Sweatshoppe Publications, 2013.
July 2013 | back-issues, poetry
coffee ring residue
she said, lately i’m as comforting
as a cup of day-old, microwaved coffee
i told her, silly kitten – you don’t drink java
you’re missing the point
where were you saturday night?
why did you stumble home at 4:00 AM?
who were you with?
no one; no body (spoke Odysseus, the liar)
credit cards leave a paper trail
like little, extramarital breadcrumbs
she asked me, when was the last time
you were honest with yourself
or with me?
i shrugged and emptied myself into the drain
not my best
put the blue one on, she said
i like that one
she helps me
pull the windsor knot
taut
water on the stove
for coffee
don’t forget
cufflinks
i wasn’t feeling
my best
(not my best at all)
but she helps
me find the buttons
and keeps
my tie
straight
C Carol studied poetry under Diane Wakoski at Michigan State University and has been published in Empty Mirror (http://www.emptymirrorbooks.com/author/clcarol) and elsewhere.
July 2013 | back-issues, fiction
Being on the run wasn’t half as glamorous as I had expected: they never tell you about Bonnie and Clyde shitting in the woods.
by Samuel Best
Samuel Best is a Glasgow-based writer and also runs Octavius, a literary magazine for students studying in Scotland. Samuel is currently writing two novels based on different blends of Scottish national identity, violence and running away. He tweets at @spbbest and has more stories available here: http://samuelbest.weebly.com/
